My jaw hangs open as I hold my spoon of ice cream halfway to my mouth.
That is the most cryptic message he’s sent me this semester. Is he trying to apologize again? To deny what I know he’s feeling,again?
He’s so lucky I liked the people at the soup kitchen, or I would’ve dropped this piece. Still, he’s hesitant to tell me abouthis parents, which is partly why I told him about my cousin. And partly because I knew he’d understand as someone else who’s experienced loss.
Yet, he didn’t tell me more or open up, and I guess he needs more time.But he didn’t need more time to touch me the way he did yesterday.
God, he drives me crazy.
One moment he’s grumpy and angry, the next he’s all laughs and smiles, then he’s flirting with me, and afterward it’s right back to being grumpy and serious.
Oh, we are definitely going to have a talk, and this time, I’m not letting him off so easily.
Chapter Twenty
EMMA
Grayson finishes the lecture on the introduction to tapas, and we all stand up to collect our things. Leo jumps up as I take my time, knowing I’ll be the last to leave.
“You look really nice today,” Leo says in a low voice.
I raise a brow. “Do I not look as nice as I have in the past?”
He shakes his head. “No, you always look good?—”
“I’m fucking with you, Leo.”
He laughs and places a hand on my shoulder. “I never thanked you properly last week.” I meet his gaze as he continues. “Professor Hayes asked me to meet him during his office hours, and he gave me new notes along with a few more compliments. Well, the closest you can get to compliments when it comes to him.” He smirks. “I have a feeling you had something to do with it.”
“He really did that?” I ask, genuinely surprised that Grayson went so far to fix his mistake.
“Yep,” Leo reassures me. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Nodding and still frozen in my spot, I’m left alone as Leo walks past me. The students quietly leave the class as I try to gather my thoughts about Grayson following through with hiswords by taking action. My respect for him grows as my annoyance and frustration fade just a little.
“Ms. Haywood?”
I close my eyes, grab my bag, and turn around. He’s cleaning his glasses as he looks at me with a neutral expression.
Grumpy it is then.
“Grayson?” I ask as I make my way to him in a couple of strides. The carpet muffles the sound of my new four-inch Manolo Blahnik Mary Jane pumps, the ones I bought to replace the regular stilettos I broke last week.
Professor Hayes offers the faintest smile. “Dropping the formalities already?”
I fold my arms across my chest and eye him suspiciously. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
His smile fades as he puts his glasses back on, making him look like the perfect image of a sexy professor.
Why does he have to be so good-looking?
“I wanted to apologize for what happened on Saturday.”
I nearly scoff.Oh, I am so officially done with this. “And exactly what part are you sorry for?” I rest my hand on his desk. “Flirting with me? Brushing your fingers along every part of my hand? Stroking your thumb until we both looked at each other with desire?—”
“Enough,” he grits out.
